


Making Something Out of Nothing

by SeventhStrife



Series: AAC: 2017 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beta, The Healing Power of Takeout, Writer!Cloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhStrife/pseuds/SeventhStrife
Summary: Extra Letters AUWhile trying to finish a piece of writing, Character A leaves their work unattended…only to return and find that someone had finished a sentence for them in the perfect way.Cloud would assume it's bad karma, but he hasn't evendoneanything.





	Making Something Out of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I resolved to myself that I would do every prompt for AAC, even if it killed me. And then today happened, The Shittiest Day to Ever Happen to a Person, Ever, and I was so ready to just go home, go to bed, and not wake up until the world stopped turning. But then I thought, "What if I make _Cloud_ have a shitty day too?" And thus, here we are. There are no words for how cathartic writing this was.
> 
> Also, if you've commented on my previous works, I swear I'm not ignoring you; I'm _super_ flattered and inspired by your kind words, but also over-worked and pressed for time. Thank you so much!

Tifa's patient, and kind, and never pesters Cloud before his due dates. It's why she's lasted this long as his editor.

_"Hi, Cloud, it's Tifa. Tomorrow morning I'll be expecting your final draft for submission. I bet you're working hard so just hang in there! I know you struggle to stay focused at times like these, so keep in mind that without this you won't have enough money to last your through the rest of the year and no one will publish a homeless person who smells like garbage. Good luck!"_

Voicemails like that, however, are why _Cloud_ always makes his deadlines. It's a little scary, how Tifa can smile and say something so harsh, so cheerfully, but it's effective. Sometimes Cloud played them back when he's flagging and inspiration is scarce.

This was the fifth time that he's listened to it, however, and he _still_ hasn't typed a word in over _two hours._

Maybe it's because his day has been so _God-awful._ He knew people just have bad days sometimes and unintentionally take it out on those around them, but did _everyone_ Cloud know have to have one at the _same time?_

For one, he's had this deadline hovering over him like a noose for about a week now, mocking every sentence he writes, dragging his progress to a snail's pace. His headaches have evolved into full-blown migraines and he's taken to keeping a large bottle of ibuprofen within arms reach at all times. He's popping them every few hours but is delicately avoiding the _Directions_ label, deciding that ignorance will save him from any possible overdose risk.

This morning when he'd gone out for coffee, the barista had been aggrieved to serve him, visibly irritated Cloud had been at the counter right at opening time and had slammed his order down with a short, _"Here."_

Guilty and annoyed, Cloud had slunk away with his drink, bracing the chill Autumn wind. He had to pick up a few groceries, just a few things to see him through the week, and had pulled out his phone, thinking to ask Sephiroth what he wanted for dinner.

The phone had rung a scant two times before Sephiroth answered it distractedly with a sharp, _"Yes, what?"_

That had Cloud freezing on the sidewalk, surprised and tense. "Um. Are you working?"

_"Yes,"_ Sephiroth said angrily, with the unmistakably clipped tone of someone forced to deal with a simpleton.

"Okay, sorry!" Cloud hung up, then stared at his phone, bewildered. _What the hell was that?_

Anger bled in moments after that and he'd stuffed his phone back into his pocket, resolved to ignore it as he usually did.

_That was uncalled for._

_Obviously,_ Sephiroth was at work; Cloud lived with the man, of _course_ he knew his schedule. But Sephiroth typically didn't answer his phone unless he was on break. He didn't have to pick up if he was busy, _Jesus._

Grocery shopping had been fine until he'd tried to leave. The greeter at the doors had stopped him with a raised hand, eying him speculatively.

"I'll need to see your receipt, please."

Cloud had stared a moment, nonplussed. Light coat, messenger bag, coffee—he didn't _think_ he looked like a shoplifter but apparently he was wrong.

Lips pursed, Cloud had pulled out his receipt from where he'd hastily stuffed it in his pocket, standing stiffly and obligingly holding open his _two_ measly shopping bags.

The clerk had nodded, appeased, and handed Cloud back his receipt with a syrupy smile. "It's policy," he'd explained apologetically.

"Right." Cloud hadn't stomped away, but it'd been a near thing.

By that point, all he'd wanted was to just _get home._ Home, where he could be alone, and no one could piss him off, and he could pretend that entire morning hadn't happened.

He'd breathed an actual sigh of relief when he'd pulled into his driveway, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He'd gotten to his door without dropping his bags or spilling his coffee, and unlocked his door with ease. He packed away the food, drained his coffee, and had collapsed on the couch. Foolishly, he allowed himself to believe he was safe from any more signs from the world that he was a universally hated being.

That's when he'd retrieved his phone, thinking to stow away his coat, and saw the missed call and voicemail from Zack.

_"Hey, Cloud."_ Zack's cheerful voice was tinged with apology and Cloud tensed, a feeling dread creeping up on him. _"I know I was supposed to visit this weekend,"_ Cloud closed his eyes in despair, effectively and completely defeated by this entire day, _"But something came up and I can't. Trust me, I wouldn't cancel unless it was **really important,** but Angeal had to skip town because his mom got sick and he's got no one to watch the shop. He can't really afford to close, so...yeah. I'm really sorry, Cloud. I miss you like crazy!"_

Cloud had sat there for a good several minutes, completely and undeniably upset. He understood. Work was just one of those things you couldn't ignore, he knew that better than anyone. But...Zack was Cloud's oldest friend and living so far apart really took it's toll on him, especially when one considered how anti-social Cloud was. Cloud didn't have many friends, had even fewer he trusted completely, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the easy companionship his best friend provided, how texting really didn't measure up and how he quietly despaired at times all the good and bad times Zack was missing, that Cloud was missing in turn.

The sting of his eyes broke him from his trance and he frowned heavily, blinking quickly to dispell the tears.

Some shitty customer service, his boyfriend gets snappy with him, and a disappointing phone call from his best friend reduces him to _tears?_ When did he get so pathetic?

Pissed and embarrassed at himself, Cloud had forced himself to pull out his laptop and work, determined to make some part of this day worthwhile.

That had been the _plan,_ at least. Instead, here he was, five repeatedly-played voicemails later, and he _still_ couldn't do the end of this damn scene.

All he needed was a conclusion! The end was literally _right there,_ Cloud just had to _write_ it. But no matter how much he backtracked to earlier chapters, tried to reimmerse himself in the strife and character growth, he couldn't muster a satisfying solution. Hope, peace, relief—that was the mood he needed to convey, but he could find none of it within himself.

Cloud hated that he couldn't control his emotions, couldn't force himself to just get over it, but it was useless, he was going to miss his deadline, and lose the freedom that came with essentially being his own boss, and then he'd have to leave town, and _really_ become homeless, and die in a week because he was too proud to beg.

Cloud buried his head in his hands, emotional state an overwhelming mess. "Fuck!"

"I see the writing is going well."

Cloud started, raising his head to see Sephiroth closing the front door behind him, hefting a tote, and tossing his keys on the small table just in the entrance.

Wary and unsure if Sephiroth hadn't gotten out all of his yelling, Cloud glared at his screen. He gave a stiff shrug in lieu of an answer.

"Hm," was all Sephiroth said, even though Cloud was _visibly_ upset, and his shoulders hunched slightly, nearly to his ears. Seriously, he couldn't handle anything else today, if Sephiroth said even one more thing wrong Cloud was going to—he was gonna—

Cloud, so focused on staying calm and not treating his boyfriend as callously as _he'd_ been treated, hadn't heard Sephiroth approach and thus was completely unprepared for the flowers that suddenly crowded his vision, obscuring his view of his laptop screen.

"What...?"

Cloud gingerly accepted the bouquet, blue eyes confused as he stared up at Sephiroth. "What are these for?"

"I think that should be—" Sephiroth cut himself off, grimacing, and Cloud felt a dull vindication. _That's **right.**  Try that again._ "They are for you. An apology. I know I was short with you, unnecessarily so. I was talking to a rather incompetent investor and hadn't checked my caller ID before answering. My anger was misplaced."

The small ball of hurt Cloud had been nursing ever since the incident began to loosen, gradually appeased. He considered the flowers, large blooms of yellow and white with rich green stalks. They were beautiful.

"You still didn't say it," Cloud said quietly, running his finger over one soft petal.

"Say what?"

Cloud looked up, straight into Sephiroth's eyes. "Sorry."

Sephiroth's green eyes widened and for a moment Cloud thought he would refuse. But then Sephiroth gripped the back of his chair and lowered himself to one knee just beside him, meeting his look in kind. The tips of his fingers brushed across Cloud's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Cloud."

Cloud looked away, down at the flowers, but felt any resentment he'd been harboring disappear like mist. "I guess you're forgiven."

"May I have my kiss now?"

Cloud met Sephiroth's half-amused, half-relieved smile with one of his own. "...Okay."

Sephiroth's lips on his made his earlier feeling of coming home complete. Cloud was content by himself, unbothered by silence, but Sephiroth made it better, just by being there.

The kiss they shared started chaste, but when Sephiroth made to pull away Cloud made a distressed, negative noise, and reached out dart-quick, seizing a fistful of Sephiroth's dress shirt and held him close.

Sephiroth didn't protest, only shifted his hand to the back of his neck, threading his long fingers up and through the hair at his nape. Cloud relaxed at the touch, drawing out the kiss with increasingly passionate touches, parting reluctantly when air called for it, sliding his tongue inside once or twice and shivering when Sephiroth mirrored him.

Cloud shifted closer, all but climbing right out of his seat and into Sephiroth's lap, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

Sephiroth broke the kiss, murmuring, "The flowers."

Cloud realized they were in danger of being crushed and sighed, nodding only slightly with Sephiroth's forehead resting against his. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he took a steadying breath.

"Sorry," he said quietly. His voice was rough, betraying his emotion. It just—it felt _so good_ to have Sephiroth here after such a terrible day. He was comforting.

Concerned, Sephiroth stroked his back. "Is everything okay?"

Cloud huffed, the sound nearly a laugh if not for how bitter it came out. "Yeah. Yeah, no, I'm fine. It's just been a _really_ shitty day."

Sephiroth hummed, considering. "I think I can help with that. How about take-out for dinner? Wutainese?"

Cloud cracked open his eyes. "Seriously?" Sephiroth had a strict rule against ordering take out too often during the week.

"Seriously. Go put those in water, I'll take care of the food."

"All right." Cloud leaned forward for one last peck and stood, feeling much better but still a little drained. He figured it wouldn't get better until he got some real rest. Then he thought of his unfinished draft and snorted. _Yeah, right._

Depressing sleep schedules aside, Cloud managed to muster some honest happiness and appreciation as he carefully placed his bouquet in a tall glass of water. Neither one of them had much of an eye for decorating, but the flowers...they were nice. They kind of made him think of home.

Cloud smiled privately at the thought of Sephiroth picking these out, Cloud in mind as he chose these colors. _What a romantic._

He placed the arrangement at the end of the counter, where they could see it from the table and living room with a turn of their heads, and drifted back to his desk when he didn't see Sephiroth nearby. _Must be changing or something._

Cloud dithered, but until the food came he really _didn't_ have a reason to idle. Sighing, he resumed his seat, warily looking at his work in progress.

But the last sentence, the dull, fragmented monstrosity he was trying revive was gone, now extended by a few lines of text.

_And while he didn't know how this could end, couldn't predict that this would end well, or happily, or even safely, he found strength in—_

_His friends. His loved ones. Because even in the darkest times, even when he didn't believe in anything at all, he still had their love and support and was never truly alone._

Oh. That was...really nice, actually. Cheesy, but Cloud couldn't even say anything because this time he really _was_ fighting tears.

The doorbell rang, and Sephiroth immediately swept out of their bedroom, answering the door before Cloud could move.

He watched Sephiroth as he paid for the food and delicately balanced the small mountain of containers. He shut the door with his foot and caught Cloud's staring, a small smile on his lips and a knowing look in his eyes.

Cloud shook his head with a laugh, rising to help Sephiroth with his burden.

Cloud dug deep, but couldn't dredge up even the slightest derision as he thought, again,  _What a romantic._

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Ass Back Home.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltOR2VzDZFM)


End file.
